He was a family friend, who worked with my father on local civil rights issues in the 60s/70s
He grew up in the Mosstown part of Lacoochee FL, called that because it the residents were so poor they used moss for bedding. All blacks who had survived & fled the Rosewood massacre
He had an amazing life. Satchel Page roommate, TV announcer, Blues Band (said he made more money from that than baseball), and writer.
(Pic on left is him with a sister, right is his families Sat night BBQ I tried to go to if I could)
When he was signed in 54 by Cleveland, they gave him money to buy a suit. But nobody in town (Dade City) would allow a black man in a dressing room
Except for a department store run by Otto Weitzenkorn, a recent german jewish immigrant, who led Mudcat try on suits in his office
This is a nice little interview with him. He had so so many stories
Once after telling some pretty harrowing stories about his childhood in the deep south in 50s, & then the early years in baseball (he was one of the first 20 black in MLB & first in the minor league he was assigned to) I asked him why he never showed any anger or bitterness. Ever
He just smiled & laughed & said something to the effect, 'Well, if you get angry, or show it, they win. If you stay happy, that confuses them and makes them even angrier. I tell you, I feel sorry for them, always angry like that. Not how I want to live my life'
Found another quote from another time (this one exact)
βMy mother told me never to lose my temper, never to give in to anger. She taught me that the best you can do is treat people with dignity & be polite with them.β
βAnd she was right: It makes them look even more foolish.β
On playing in minor leagues in North Dakota in 1950βs:
βThey had never seen anyone with a tan, much less someone black like me. The mayor of the town told the manager I was not allowed to talk to white women. By the end of the summer I had a girlfriend. Kids will be kids.β
Few more thoughts on a remarkable man
Mudcat's childhood was steeped in poverty & racism. Lacoochee, still poor today, was very very poor & harshly segregated then
It was a classic southern mill town, with the blacks confined to shotgun shacks near railroad tracks,in "Mosstown"
Mr Grant's family came to Lacoochee fleeing the Rosewood massacre of 23, settling down in only part of town they were allowed.
Most worked in the local mill, & like all workers, shopped in the mill store, went to the mill doctor.
Blacks couldn't go to local school though
Another resident started a one room school for the black children. After that he attended the "Moore Academy", the counties only public school for blacks, 6 miles away. Which he walked to each day. (really)
Where he became the baseball & basketball team's star player.
He went to Florida A&M on scholorships, but had to drop out because the Mill's closing had hit Lacoochee hard.
A scout saw him playing on a local semi pro team against a team of police. A game played in a cow pasture where he pitched & hit 3 HRs
Here his own description of his education and Mrs Vera Lucas Goodwin
You know, Mr Grant was also an author; so will end this by letting his own words tell you about him.
From first pages of his book βThe Black Acesβ
And here is the link to the book, for those interested
Since I walk about 3 hours a day, I try a lot of audiobooks & podcasts and so I stumbled onto this weird podcast about the history of rock music and after five minutes I was about to eject it because it sounded like it was made by a crazy guy in his basement, but his absolute dedication, encyclopedic knowledge, and understated enthusiasm for the history of the rock music won me over and now I think it might be the best podcast ever.
Iβve never seen a better example of amateur professionalism. No corporation would allow him to make the choices he has made, and that is a such great thing because his intense passion is on full display
Believe me. Give it thirty minutes. You are going to want to eject after two. Stick with it.
Bishkek (Kyrgyzstan) is one of the most unique cities I've walked. Almost zero tourist, because very few people even know it exists.
I wouldn't recommend it for someone looking for a relaxing vacation, but if you want to really feel your in a different place, a bit detached from the rest of the world, it's safe, inexpensive, and interesting
About ten miles outside of Bishkek is a 3 square mile market, built, lego like, from shipping containers.
Almost entirely self-regulated, it started after fall of USSR as a place to swap goods -- where they came from, and how, nobody asked, or cared
Slapped down in the middle of an otherwise bland neighborhood of mud roads and single homes it's now Central Asiaβs largest marketplace.
A complex of stores inside freight containers selling anything and everything you want: Toys, TVs, Jeans, Bras, Bikes, Spices, Trinkets, X-mas decorations, Tools, Gas Masks, Hijabs, Watches, Wall clocks, Slippers, Shampoo, Stuffed Animals, and on and on.
All of it imported from China, Russia, Afghanistan, Uzbekistan, South Korea, India, Iran, etc. Carrying on, in a very modern way, Kyrgyzstanβs Silk Road tradition.
Itβs a microcosm of our very material global supply chain world. A visceral picture of how our world of stuff works. How the clothes we wear, the food we eat, the things that fill our homes, come from all over, shipped across the globe in rectangular metal boxes.
It has it's own restaurants, a mosque, and keeps expanding.
Traveling to places like Bishkek has helped me understand history better. Not from going to museums, or historical sites, but from seeing how people physically live, especially those without a lot of money.
The marketplaces of Bishkek, or Istanbul, are not that removed from the marketplaces of ancient Rome, or Paris in the middle ages. They are crowded, loud, busy, colorful, communal, and self-organized. Or to put it simply, messy.
When you go to a historical monument, like the ruins of an ancient building, or a preserved cathedral or mosque, you get the entirely wrong image of the past. You see quiet, dignified, empty, sterile spaces. Places where you are scared to touch something. Places where people walk around in hushed voices.
Thatβs nothing like what the past was, and you can see that in the present in places like the shipping container market.
Update on this: I went to eye-doctor, & no I don't have cataracts. The doctor did mention, almost all her customers now complain about same thing, to extent some have completely stopped driving at night.
The primary offender is newer cars with very bright headlights -- Tesla's are particularly bad, & with them, it's not about the height, but only strength of beam.
There's also less awareness on when to use high beams, especially with younger drivers.
The combo of it all is, driving at night, especially in rural areas, has gotten dangerous. It's not some silly annoyance thing, but a real problem.
Limiting beam intensity, is an example of what competent Government regulation is supposed to be about -- curtailing selfish individual behavior, with limited benefit, that's directly dangerous and harmful, in a clear physical way, to the larger community.
Even hard core libertarians can get behind this one.
we'll be up against the Big-Beam-Industrial Complex. But think of bugs life. We can overcome!
Why is this happening? Spend more than one week, not visiting, but residing, in any big city poor neighborhood, or in a depopulating mid sized city anywhere in US, and you will get it.
Unless you have the strongest ideological blinders on
Pundits need to add Anomie to their list of buzzwords.